


Do you trust me? (Always.)

by Lovelydest



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, But it's ok cause they have each other, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Murphy loves Bellamy's freckles and curls, Scars, They're both actually soft despite having anger issues, They're both angry at the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovelydest/pseuds/Lovelydest
Summary: Do you trust me?The words were always spoken in the dark, limbs tangled together, the wind gently bringing in the sounds of the outer city as they laid together. Hands caressing the others body, lips brushing gently across sharp cheekbones and freckles.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/John Murphy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Do you trust me? (Always.)

**Author's Note:**

> I put fluff but like it's barely there. It's all types of emotions mixed together but I liked where it went even though it is kinda corny.
> 
> Honesty I'm just procrastinating writing my English term paper which is like 10 pgs and I really don't wanna do it so I'm just writing murphamy :).
> 
> Anways enjoy whatever this is.

_ Do you trust me?  _

  


The words were always spoken in the dark, limbs tangled together, the wind gently bringing in the sounds of the outer city as they laid together. Hands caressing the others body, lips brushing gently across sharp cheekbones and freckles. 

  


It almost seemed like a secret, spoken in hushed tones as to not let anyone in even though they were the only ones in the room. 

  


_ Always.  _

  


Murphy never liked the word 'always'. That was until Bellamy handed it to him on a silver platter, arms stretched out with his offering of trust and love that Murphy happily ate up. Greedy and selfish hands reaching out to take every last bit, relishing in the warm, rough hands that held him up. 

  


It was only for them. Only for their ears to hear and for them to say. 

  


It was said when they were halfway laying on the couch, hands running through dark curls, slightly pulling at the ends as tanned hands tightened and roughly pulled him impossibly closer as if trying to become one, lips crushing together, like waves before a storm hits. Lips pulling away, the smell of fruity alcohol hitting the others lips of cherry and cigarettes, hot breath ghosting over the words that would come out in a harsh pant. Their eyes locking, hands running up his back over scars, pupils blown wide over and Murphy would count every freckle that covered his face like a map of stars. Constellations. 

  


_ Always.  _

  


It was said when they would have a fight. A fight that would be over something so trivial but would get their blood boiling because they liked the occasional fight. The harsh words spitting out like venom because sometimes they needed to realize that they were still people, who despite their faults and mistakes, still deserved someone. It would be late into the night, Bellamy laying in bed, arms crossed under his head as he stared blankly up at the ceiling, lights from the cars outside casting shadows over the walls. Waiting. Waiting for Murphy to come inside the room, kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket as he crawled his way into bed beside Bellamy, fingers brushing lightly against the skin of his arm. A silent question.  _ Do you trust me?  _

  


And Bellamy would take him into his arms, lips brushing over his forehead as he held him and Murphy would cling to him like a lifeline. A silent answer. 

  


_ Always.  _

  


It was always Murphy who would ask the question within the shadows or within the safety of each other's arms. It was always Bellamy who answered his plea, because Murphy was his and what he only ever wanted. To hold his lithe body that slid so perfectly against his. His own haven of sorts that he can indulge himself in. 

  


And there was one time when Bellamy asked the question. Back during the early stages of their relationship when they both were filled with hate because it seemed like the world couldn't give them a damn break despite the pleas that would come spilling from their mouths in silent prayers and harsh words.

  


Both filled with hate, because everyone always left and hated Murphy filling him with resentment, and Bellamy, because everyone always looked up to him waiting for an answer that he could never give and they would cast him aside as if he was a piece of garbage, like he reached the expiration date and he was of no use. And so when they would rip each other's clothes off and bite into each other, taking all their anger out it left them with a filling of contentment. Then those rough nights would turn into soft gazes and soft touches that sometimes the younger would brush off or move away from like he was struck by fire because he didn't know how to handle the soft words and the soft touches because he believed he didn't deserve them. 

  


And so Bellamy asked the question, world going quiet in all of its heavenly glory. The world waiting for the answer, the hushed whispers seemingly growing even more quiet as the silence stretched on. 

  


_ Do you trust me?  _

  


Calloused, tanned hands reaching out for pale ones. 

  


_ Always.  _

  
  



End file.
